


If You Walk Out On Me (I’m Walking After You)

by Ourladyofresurrection



Series: MCR Requests [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Arguments, Bob wants to fuck Brendon, Fluff, Frerard, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Frottage, Highschool AU, Locker Room, Lots of Mormon jokes, M/M, Mikey is done with this shit, Yes in that exact order, angry makeout, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ourladyofresurrection/pseuds/Ourladyofresurrection
Summary: Prompt! From @StageFourPoison “Frank and Gee get into an argument and won’t speak to each other and their friends lock them in a room together to get them to resolve things”





	If You Walk Out On Me (I’m Walking After You)

Frank and Gerard were the school's power couple.

Well, when they weren't being shoved into lockers and being called 'fag'. Now that Ray thinks of it, Frank is at best, a short-stack with anger issues. Gerard? Well, Ray once saw him keel over halfway through a lap around the better part of the field in P.E, and if Gerard was absent the week of self defence, it was certainly because he conveniently came down with some ancient plague the night before.

So really, there wasn't much to be said about the force possessed between the two of them. Ray wonders if they were to break up, they would have to divide their rations of strength equally amongst each other like some kind of weird divorce court case.

He doubts there exist prenups dedicating ownership to who gets their one shared braincell.

Look, maybe they aren't powerful, or well-liked, or...anything a power couple is...

They're a couple.

There. Truth at hand, pure and simple, at the very least, beneath all the bullshit, that was true.

They sure aren't acting like two halves of a better whole, though. They've been avoiding each other like Gerard really did have the aforementioned hypothetical ancient plague, and shooting daggers each others' way so often they ought to have issues an 'erratic projectile' warning anytime they were in close vicinity of each other.

Ray never thought anyone could chew passive-aggressively until he saw Frank lividly biting into a salami sandwich while eye-stabbing Gerard from across the room.

Apparently it's possible. 

It's like they were in some kind of weird alpha cuckolding feud, in which they were competing to see who could fuck themselves over faster and more humiliatingly. As of right now, they were both winning.

"Dude," Mikey said, drawing Ray's attention, his unfocused eyes coming to rest blurrily upon the hands in front of him, which he now attributed to belong to Mikey, who was snapping them in his face.

"Huh?" Ray said dumbly.

Mikey rolled his eyes, "You've been like...staring at my brother for ten minutes now. 'Fuckin weird."

Pink started to tinge the tips of Ray's ears, "No, no, I'm not ogling your brother you dimwit, I'm watching Gerard and Frank silently wage war against each other."

"That's still going on?" 

"Do you think our group would be sitting in three fucking different places if it wasn't?"

Bob cracked his knuckles, leaning back on his hands in a facade of effortless cool, "I haven't seen Gerard shoving his tongue down Frank's throat in a week. My crops are watered. My skin has cleared. Peace is restored in the Bryar psyche."

Mikey shrugged, "'Gotta take Bob's side here. I don't wanna stop to think about how many years of my life have been shaved off by watching my brother practically re-enact soft-core porn with my best friend in front of my virgin eyes."

"Virgin," Bob snorts, punching a closed fist against his shoulder, nearly jostling him out of his seat.

"Urie's got enough of a body count for all of us."

"Keep talking shit and we'll be talking about a vastly different kind of body count. Hint hint, you're the latest victim." Brendon said in a low voice that may have been intimidating if he wasn't a living muppet.

"Did Brendon just threaten to fuck Mikey?"

"No, you prick, I said a different kind of bodycount. MURDER," he emphasized.

"Not the only prick you'll be yelling ab-" Bob started.

"Alright, alright!" Ray interrupted, shuddering, "case in point: we need to get these losers to make up before they pass the 'passive-aggressive staring' phase and enter the 'fuck your friends for revenge' phase. I've already seen Frank eying Bob a little too thoughtfully enough the past few days."

"Wait, what?!"

"Look," Ray sighed, "are you guys gonna help me or am I gonna have to do this myself?"

A slew of unenthusiastic exchanged looks followed the implied ultimatum, including an uncomfortably pregnant pause. Ray became slightly more concerned about the situation given the fact the gang seriously looked like they were entertaining the possibility of saying 'no.' 

He didn't have the same brawn or unbridled chaotic energy that the others did. At best he was just a white dude with an afro and crushingly high hopes.

Luckily for him, the silence broke.

"Alright, alright," Bob said, "fine! We'll help 'em. But only to save my ass—"

"Literally," Brendon muttered, earning snickers around the table and a deadly look from Bob.

"—and don't expect me to pitch in on the GoFundMe to pay the doctor bill when one of the twats gets herpes or somethin.'"

Ray grinned in relief, "Awe, Bob. I dare say you're softening."

"Aw, hell. Somebody wanna shut Bob Ross up before I stab this plastic fork through his spleen?"

Mikey sighed, "Bob, shut the fuck up. Ray, shut the fuck up. All of you, shush. Now, are we gonna do this or what?"

 

The plan was pretty simple. Mikey was gonna text Gerard, telling him to meet him in the change room. Mikey knows that Frank always hangs out there around the end of third period so he can avoid getting beat up in the boy's room...again. Neither would be aware of the others' presence, but once they were both in, Bob would lock the door.

Ray would then stand outside the door to make sure nobody was actually like...killing each other in there.

"It'll be like couple's counselling!"

Bob frowned, "Ray, I'm not a marriage counsellor, but I don't think their methods involve forcibly locking them in an enclosed room."

Brendon looked up from his phone, "Yes they do! My great, great aunt was a marriage counsellor. She was also Mormon, as were her clients, so really it was just a whole lot of 'and how does that make you feel? and how does that make you feel, and how does that make you feel—"

"Okay, Brendon, we got it," Mikey said, clearing his throat.

"Think anyone's ever pulled a 'Cain and Abel' in couples counselling?" Brendon mused aloud, to seemingly no one at all.

Luckily, Brendon's babbling was cut short when Mikey suddenly yanked him behind a wall obscured from the vision of the change rooms, Ray and Bob following suit.

"Shh! He's coming!" he hissed. 

Sure enough, Gerard rounded the bend at that exact moment, pausing outside for a minute before walking through the door.

"Now!" Mikey hissed at Bob, who stumbled and cursed, his knees popping alarming loud as he was shoved to his feet, the stolen key clicking almost inaudibly against the pins before turning shut.

They sighed in relief, slumping against the wall. Now, all that was left to do, was wait.

 

Gerard's guardian angels are pieces of shit.

They can't do their job, and it's like, 'how? you've been doing this for literally eternity, you're telling me you can't press buttons without fucking shit up?'

But there's not exactly a customer service line with some poor unsuspecting soul just trying to make a living for Gerard to bitch to, in regards the carelessness of the Universe when it comes to marrionetting his life.

So Gerard sucks it up.

Normally, he's fine with it. Life speaks out in regards to his fate with a troublingly haphazard cadence, and he calls it how it is and moves on.

And then Gerard saw fucking Frank in the boy's room and suddenly, any inch of tolerance his remaining few braincells could possibly manage in any other situation took a hike to Guatemala. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Gerard seethed, amazingly managing his composure when Frank's stupid basketball shorts were half hanging off his hips, clearly having been in the process of hiking them on—or off—when he walked in.

Frank frowned, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Mikey told me to meet him here."

Frank rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

"Hey!" Gerard said, voice rumbling low in his chest, heftier with pent up resentment, "I have just as much right to be here as you do."

Like the typical angst teenage boy he was, Frank just responded with another muttered 'whatever.' Gerard made sure to voice the first part of that thought to him to really piss him off. Because if the flame's not going out, might as well fuel it.

"Yeah well, you seemed to have less complaints last week when my tongue was down your throat. But whatever, Gerard."

White hot anger tinged at his fingertips and bristled against the back of his neck as he watched Frank stare challenging back at him.

"You know what? Screw it, tell Mikey to text me when he comes looking for me. I'm leaving."

"Fine!"

"Fine!" Gerard said scaldingly, realizing how juvenile that interaction would sound to an outsider, yet failing to recognize that the events that transpired over the past week, in its entirety, was stupid.

He went to turn the handle, the latch pivoting, but not opening. He grunted under his breath, fingers jiggling the handle impatiently, to no avail.

"Goddammit. Frank, did you lock me in here?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose frustratedly.

Frank looked at him as if he grew a third eyeball smack dab in the middle of his forehead, "No. If you haven't noticed, I want to be around you about as much as you wanna be around me."

Frank's fingers flew to the hem of his shirt, sparking some weird conglomeration of confusion and nostalgic recognition in Gerard's mind.

"What? So you're just gonna strip in front of me?"

Frank fumbled with the fabric before he spoke bitterly, "Just because you have hold-ups, doesn't mean I have to too." 

Gerard is pretty sure Frank was talking about more than just Gerard interrupting him getting dressed when he said that.

Frank yanked his shirt off in one swift motion, angrily tossing the jumbled heap onto a nearby bench.

Gerard muttered frustratedly under his breath, wrenching on the handle again, pulling until his knuckles went white and he started to feel faint due to all the blood flooding to other extremities and away from his brain, where he needed it most.

"Look, obviously Mikey locked you in here for some reason," Frank huffed, crossing his arms protectively over his bare chest.

"How do you know that?"

"Mikey texted you to meet at a shady spot where he knew I would be, during our biggest fight, and the door promptly locked behind you. Doesn't take a genius to figure out, and you made it pretty clear you think I'm stupid, so..." Frank trailed off, his voice splintering at the end for a brief second.

The slight waver to his voice, despite being promptly righted and replaced with a deadly stare, tugged at Gerard's heart a bit.

You don't date someone for months, and be their best friend for years and suddenly lose all emotional ties to them the second shit hits the fan. Not entirely, at least. No matter how painful.

"Frank, I don't think you're stupid," Gerard sighed, leaning against the wall, internally chiding himself for softening ever so slightly.

"Sure you don't."

Gerard lurched away from the wall, stomach twisting over itself in increasingly uncomfortably tight knots, a hellish bonfire climbing its way up his throat and jaw as anger-induced heartburn raked its way through his esophagus.

"Goddammit, Frank! Why don't you ever fucking listen to me?" Gerard barked, slowly cornering Frank into the wall as he crossed the spans from the door to the end of the room.

"Why should I trust a word you say?!" 

"I'm your fucking boyfriend Frank, you should be able to trust me!"

"Well, look where that got us, Gerard! Now we don't even talk!" Frank yelled hoarsely, him and Gerard now almost nose to nose, which would be almost comical if it wasn't so upsetting.

"I'm trying to talk to you now! Goddammit Frank for once can you just—"

"What?" Frank spat, eyes still fully of fiery determination behind their glassiness.

Gerard recognizes that look. It's the same look he had when he said "Hi. I'm Frank." It's the same look he had the night they got slightly tipsy and were stumbling back to Frank's house through the beaten path, Frank staring up at him and with such dead-set conviction, whispering "I think I'm in love with you."

"Don't go breaking my heart, Way," he had said, jaw set with a certain sheer determinedness that could shake the heavens.

Then, their first kiss.

That look, it was the same one Frank had when they were all grouped together outside, having stripped down to their cargo shorts and bare chests, looking down the canyon upwards of ten feet of a fall into crystal clear water.

He looked at Gerard, a shaky smile on his face, eyes glimmering with some kind of barely-compacted insanity, but he had never looked more charming.

"Catch ya down there," he had said, before launching his body into the lake below, his manic laughter following him all the way down while Gerard watched in wonder.

"You coming?"

It was the look of fear. The fear of falling. The fear of getting swimming down ten feet before the other person even dipped their toes in. The fear of committing when the other person was still in a position that granted them the full chance to run away with nothing lost. The give without gain. The monumental loss of a monumental gain.

But, there was something else...something raw and powerful, completely badass and unbridled. 

The self preservation that sit comfortably in the passenger seat, ready to take the wheel at any given moment if appealing to the better side of risking fear fails. The way his tongue is just as prepared to say "I'm leaving," as it is to say, "I never want to be without you." The way the hands that caress his love's face can just as soon be used to pick up the broken pieces of everything that shattered. The steady saving flame ready to let it all ignite and walk away if fortune calls for it.

It's purely amazing and it's purely Frank.

Gerard kisses him.

He kisses him passionately and his lips twitch and sear against Frank's, as if all the heat of that flame was letting go in one breath. He gently brushes his palm against the soft skin stretched over Frank's ribcage, a soothing gesture that causes him to relax, falling forward and keening against Gerard as if he was a starving man.

He turns them around, and they slowly chase each others' mouths until Frank's back hits the door, Gerard licking inside his fucking mouth like an animal.

"God, I fuckin'—" Frank gasped against Gerard's mouth between assaults of tongue and teeth, "-hate you oh my God."

Gerard gently raked his fingers against Frank's scalp, tugging up to expose his neck, tongue and teeth ghosting marks just under his jaw and collarbone. He licked a line against his sternum, sucking a kiss into the warm skin, wedging his thigh between Frank's.

Frank let out a strangled moan, "Gee," he breathed through an unconscious stream of giggles, "ack, stop, that tickles!"

Gerard smirked against his chest, joining their mouths in another searing kiss. One of his hands rested on Frank's hipbone, drawing their lower halves flush together and grinding against him agonizingly slow and dirty while he swallowed the sound of Frank's constant stream of whimpers, the slide of their tongues filling the sounds of the empty room.

Frank gripped his shirt tightly in his fist, panting as he started to really feel the effects of what Gerard was doing to him, bulge rock-hard and prominent against the mesh of his basketball shorts. He grabbed on to something— anything for support. That anything turned out to be the door handle.

Frank gripped the cold metal as the warmth and heat between them grew to an almost unbearable level— both metaphorically and literally. Frank groaned lowly and pressed down harder and harder against the handle and—

The door suddenly swung open, sending Frank careening off of it and onto the floor, Gerard landing on top of him, luckily, his hand laced in his hair protecting his head from the hard fall.

Around them, Ray looked dumbstruck and overly pleased, Bob looked like he wanted to kill someone, Mikey looked like he wanted to be killed, and Brendon was...well, Brendon.

Gerard shielded Frank's bare chest from prying eyes with his arms, feeling Frank flush pink beneath him. Gerard took on his most protective stare to challenge anyone to try him, but luckily, the hall was momentarily empty except for the six of them.

"That could be us," Brendon nudged Bob, breaking the deafening silence.

"Shut up, Urie," he received as an admittedly, slightly delayed response. 

Though it probably had nothing to do with him contemplating the proposition. After all, it wasn't every day you saw your two best friends half naked and making out.

In the aftermath of this horrific crash, Brendon, miraculously seemed to be the only one unaffected, and with working control of his vocal cords.

"So...still think it's possible they Cain and Abel'ed in there?"

This time, it was Frank who spoke, "The fuck is that? A sex position?"

Gerard lost it above him, chest shaking with silent laughter, head coming to rest on his chest, dark hair splayed across pale skin.

"I'm begging you guys to please read a Bible, or go to church." Bob said pleadingly, sounding almost as if he could cry.

"Or visit my great, great aunt's couple's counselling. Though I gotta mention that they're a lot less lenient on the whole cult polygamy scene than they were a hundred years ago," Brendon chimed in helpfully.

This time, Bob actually did cry.

"Jesus Christ," Mikey muttered, "just...put on some clothes alright?"

 

Inside the change room, Frank pulled on a new shirt and a pair of jeans, fixing his hair and fussing with the neck-line of his shirt self-consciously.

"I can't believe they just unlocked the door without telling us," Gerard admonished, "I mean, warn a guy, will ya?"

Frank huffed out a laugh, standing in front of Gerard, "Do I look..."

"Like you just dry-humped in a locker room? Yes," Gerard laughed.

Frank punched his shoulder, "Geeeerard," he whined.

"Just kidding," he conceded, placing his hands on Frank's shoulders and placing a gentle kiss to his cheek, "you look cute as always."

Frank smiled.

Gerard leaned over into his ear and added, "and a just a little bit like you fucked in a locker room."

Frank laughed, "Stop, or I'll take away your kissing privileges."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Mmm," Frank mused, lips ghosting over his, "we'll see."

He playfully nipped his bottom lip as Gerard leaned in to deepen the kiss, earning a surprised laugh from him.

Comfortable silence lay steady in the room after that, like a velvet curtain descending on the atmosphere. Frank gazing up at Gerard with a familiar look.

Gerard recognized that look. It's the one reserved for only him, the 'oh my God, you're so stupid but I love you' look. 

Gerard sent him one of those looks right back down at his beautiful face. Frank's face erupted into a smile like sunshine, burying his face in Gerard's chest, wrapping his arms around his waist, making him look smaller.

"I missed you," Frank murmured against the fabric of his hoodie.

Gerard pet his hair, planting a kiss amongst the fluff, "You'll never have to miss me again."

Frank gazed up at him with those beautiful, intelligent hazel eyes, "I'm okay with missing you. As long as you come back to me after."

Gerard looked at him with the same 'risk it all' look that Frank gave him. He took a deep breath, braced himself and took the jump, "I'll always come back to you."

Gerard was free-falling, and now he's in it deep. 

Frank smiled, his eyes glimmering, leaning up on his tiptoes and kissing him passionate and promising.

Gerard jumped off the cliff, and Frank was right behind him to follow. They took the plunge, they made the landing, they're in it together, undeniably.

Frank's sweet voice rung in Gerard's ear as they swayed gently together:

If you walk out on me,  
I'm walking after you.


End file.
